Ten Days in Paradise
by Athena Alexandria
Summary: AU. Based on the conversation at the end of 'The Man in the Wall'. What if Booth had invited Brennan to go to Jamaica with him?
1. Chapter 1

_Now that I have more time, and my other fic is nearing the end, I wanted to start something new. I was originally going to post a HITH/CITG "Fill-In-The-Blanks" fic (which I've already written bits and pieces of), but since the site is already oversaturated with those, I decided to do something kind of out there and different. It's set in early season one, after 'The Man in the Wall', and should be pretty light-hearted, with a little bit of romantic angst to keep things interesting.  
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><p>Chapter 1.<p>

"Getting yourself in the mood?" Brennan asked, climbing onto the stool next to Booth's.

He was sitting alone at the bar at Wong Fu's, nursing some kind of luminous tropical cocktail as he contemplated the phone call he'd just gotten from Tessa. He stopped twirling the paper umbrella and took a bite out of the pineapple slice. "Trying," he agreed. Then, because he felt like he needed to talk to someone about it, "You know, this really isn't gonna be the type of vacation I was hoping for."

"Oh?" Brennan asked, waiting for him to elaborate.

"Tessa's not going. Something came up at work," he explained, taking a casual sip of his drink to mask his unhappiness. Once again, he'd reached a dead end in his relationship. Neither of them was prepared to make a serious commitment - her less than him - which meant that it was only a matter of time before they made a mutal decision to break up. At this rate, he would never get married or have any more kids. He was pretty sure that he was doomed to stay single forever, with only his weekends with Parker to give his life outside of work meaning.

"That's too bad. I'm sorry," Brennan told him sincerely. She didn't seem to know what else to say to make him feel better until she confessed, "Hey, I like going on vacations by myself."

This caught his interest. "Really?" There was still so much that he didn't know about her.

"Sure. Nothing wrong with being alone."

"No, I mean, you like to go on vacation?" he clarified. The only trips he ever heard her talk about were the ones she took for work.

"Yeah, I go places all the time."

Somehow, he wasn't sure that identifying the victims of genocide counted as a vacation. "Do you ever just, you know, sit on the beach, pretend there's no such thing as skeletons?" he asked her.

"Is that fun in any way?" she countered.

He sighed inwardly. One of these days he was going to find a way to convince her that there was a whole world out there beyond the lab that she hid herself in. "When was the last time you got away?"

She stared at him blankly. "Got away from what?"

As usual, her innocence made him chuckle. He had never met anyone who loved their job as much as she did – especially anyone who worked in law enforcement. "Oh, Bones, you know, because what usually happens to me… I think about not coming back," he admitted, surprising himself. He'd never told anyone that before.

He could see that she was intrigued. "Seriously?"

"Yeah, you know, you go with someone, you joke about not going back to your real life, the two of you laugh. But when you're alone, the world is full of possibilities." With that, he moved to get up and leave her to whatever business she'd come there for when an idea occurred to him. "You know, you should come with me," he told her, sitting back down. He needed a break, and so, it seemed, did she.

"To Jamaica?"she asked, her expression dubious, as if she was having trouble deciding whether or not his offer was genuine.

"Why not?" It might not be the romantic interlude he'd envisioned when he made the arrangements, but she was always good company, whether she knew it or not. "The tickets are non-refundable, so really, you'd be doing me a favour. You might even enjoy yourself."

"What would _I_ do in Jamaica?" she laughed. "There aren't any skeletons there."

He cracked a wry smile at her attempt at a joke. At least he hoped it was a joke. It was hard to tell with her sometimes. "Nothing," he spelled out for her benefit. "That's the point. When was the last time you did nothing?"

He could see that she still wasn't convinced. "I haven't booked any vacation time," she reminded him.

"Exactly," he agreed. As far as he knew, she never used any - at least not for anything selfish and irresponsible like this. That meant that as far as he was concerned, the Jeffersonian owed her. "You must have heaps stored up by now."

He could tell by the way the corners of her mouth twitched into an almost smile, that he was wearing her down with his arguments. "I have responsibilities, Booth," she insisted, forcing herself to look stern. "Dr. Goodman, Zack, Angela, all those people in Limbo… They need me. I can't just go flying off to Jamaica on a whim."

It worried him sometimes that she never did anything impulsive. She was so serious. It wasn't healthy. "You work harder than anyone else I know, Bones. You deserve to take a break once in a while."

She shot him an exasperated glare. "I'll think about it," she agreed. "But I am not promising anything," she insisted when he grinned as if this was as good as a 'Yes', which it was. If she really didn't want to go, she would have told him.

"Just don't take too long," he told her as he slid off his stool. "We leave on Friday."

* * *

><p>"You're awfully quiet," Angela observed the next day. She was standing on the other side of the bench from where Brennan was working on reconstructing a skull that she'd rescued from Limbo, waiting for her to hand it over so that she could begin her facial reconstruction. "Did something happen last night?"<p>

I should just tell her, Brennan thought. Angela would know what to do. She was better at handling these kinds of delicate interpersonal situations than she herself was. "Booth asked me to go to Jamaica with him," Brennan explained. The thought of dropping everything and going on a spontaneous vacation – especially with Booth – made her uncomfortable. She needed time to prepare, both physically and mentally; to do research into the language and customs and plan her itinerary.

"Booth? Asked you to go on vacation with him?" Angela repeated slowly.

"Isn't that what I just said?" Brennan agreed, wondering if her friend needed to get her hearing tested.

"I'm just surprised, that's all. What did you say?" she asked eagerly.

"I told him I'd think about it," Brennan confessed without taking her eyes off the skull. And she had. In truth, it was all she'd been able to think about since he suggested it. Just when she'd resolved to give him an answer, she found herself torn again. Right now, she was leaning back towards 'No'.

When she finally looked up, it was in time to see Angela's grin evaporate. "Sweetie, a hot guy wants to take you on an exotic all-expenses-paid vacation – what is there to think about?"

"It's not like that, Angela," Brennan protested. She wasn't even sure she could consider Booth a friend. They worked together, that was all. And as far as she knew, he had a girlfriend. "He only wants someone to go with him to make sure he doesn't run away. He said whenever he goes on vacation alone, he thinks about not coming back."

"Don't we all?" Angela agreed with a dreamy smile.

"I don't," Brennan insisted. "I like it here." As much as she enjoyed travelling, she looked forward to returning to the Jeffersonian where she felt more at home than she had anywhere else since she was forced into foster care.

At this, her friend just rolled her eyes. "Of course you don't. You're practically an exhibit yourself. So then where's the harm?" she pressed, shaking herself out of her reverie. "It's not like he's expecting the two of you to hook up – you'd just be keeping him company. Besides, it's not like we're gonna be run off our feet with him gone. I'm sure Goodman won't mind you taking some time off."

"You really think I should go?" Brennan asked uncertainly. Maybe she would call and take him up on his offer after all. If nothing else, it would be a chance to explore somewhere new.

"Yes," Angela agreed. "Go. Have fun. God knows you could do with more fun in your life. You can bring me back something nice as a thank you for the amazing time I know you guys are gonna have."

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><p>On Thursday night, Booth was in his bedroom, shoving things into his duffel bag when his cell began to vibrate on the dresser. He broke into a grin when he checked the Caller ID, only to see his partner's name flash up on screen. "So?" he greeted her when he picked up, tucking the phone between his ear and his shoulder so that he could continue packing. "What's it gonna be?"<p>

He heard her let out a drawn out sigh as if she didn't like what she was about to say. "Okay, you win. I'll go to Jamaica with you," she agreed.

"Geez, Bones, it's a vacation, not a trip to the dentist," he teased her, pleased that she had decided to tag along after all, even if she did sound about as enthusiastic about their adventure as she would about going to get her wisdom teeth pulled.

"But I want my own room," she continued. "I'll pay for it, of course."

"Of course," he agreed. He'd already taken into account the fact that they would have to change the booking. It wasn't like they were planning to sleep together: not only were they colleagues, but he still had a girlfriend. For the time being, anyway. "Anything else?"

"You have to take me to Rasta Village. It's an authentic Rastafari indigenous village. And you're not allowed to complain," she amended before he could express his displeasure at having to visit a museum on his vacation. "Those are my conditions."

Her request made him smile. Typical Bones. Ten days in a tropical oasis and she wanted to look at a bunch of grass huts. She really knew how to live it up. "Fine," he agreed. "I will go to your native village with you. So that's it? We have ourselves a deal?"

"If you acquiesce to those terms, then yes, we have ourselves a deal."

Maybe this vacation wouldn't be so bad after all. If nothing else, he might be able to convince her once and for all that sitting on a beach could be fun. "Then I'll pick you up at eight. And, Bones?" he added as they were about to say their goodnights and hang up. "Don't forget to pack your bathing suit. You're gonna need it."

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><p><em>Once again, I'm not planning any case stuff <em>for this fic <em>since it kind of defeats the purpose of "sitting on a beach and pretending there's no such thing as skeletons", unless people really want it..._


	2. Chapter 2

_Thanks for the reviews. This is way overdue, I know, but with my other fic winding up, I will (hopefully) be able to update more regularly.  
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><p>Chapter 2.<p>

Brennan was already dressed and ready, waiting in front of her building with her suitcase at her feet when Booth arrived to pick her up the next morning.

"That's what you're wearing?" he asked as he hopped out to help her with her luggage.

She was dressed in khaki shorts and an olive green tank top with a white button up knotted just above her belt, a broad-brimmed hat in her hand and hiking boots on her feet. "What's wrong with it?" she insisted, inspecting the offending outfit with a frown. "This is what I always wear on vacation."

He stifled the laugh that was threatening to escape. "Nothing, it's just that we're going to a resort, not on a trek through the Amazon rainforest. Don't you own any beach gear?"

"Like what?"

He shrugged. "Board shorts, flip flips… I don't know, a sarong?" Something that didn't make her look as though she were auditioning for the part of Lara Croft in the next _Tomb Raider_ movie; although truth be told, the whole sexy archaeologist thing was undoubtedly a huge turn on for him and any other red-blooded male.

"I have a sampot that I got last time I was in Cambodia," she told him. "It's like a sarong."

He sighed, shaking his head. No one could say that he hadn't tried. "Nevermind, Bones, you're fine," he told her. He reached past her for her suitcase. "Now give me your bags and let's go."

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><p>"I don't see why we have to drive all the way to Baltimore to catch a flight," Brennan complained as they travelled along the parkway that separated the city from DC. If they'd gotten on the plane at Dulles like she thought they were going to then they could be on their way to their destination by now.<p>

"Because it's cheaper, okay?" Booth explained in a defensive tone.

"Not when you take fuel into account," she felt compelled to point out. Then again, he did have a government vehicle, which he tended to misuse at times. Like now.

"You're not gonna keep that up the whole time we're away, are you?" he asked, shooting her an exasperated look. "Because if you are, then maybe we should just turn around now."

"Doing what?" She wasn't aware of doing anything wrong.

"Nitpicking everything I say."

"I do not 'nitpick'," she told him. She couldn't help it if she was more intelligent than him. And that almost everything he said was irrational.

"Yes, you do. You're doing it now."

"I am not," she insisted, noting with a sigh that it was quickly becoming a circular argument.

He smirked. "Yes, you are."

The whole exchange was reminiscent of similar ones she'd had with her brother when they were children. "How is it that I possess multiple degrees, including a doctorate, and yet you manage to reduce me to a ten-year-old whenever I'm around you?" she mused out loud.

She meant it as a rhetorical question, but as usual, he couldn't pass up the opportunity to annoy her further. "I don't know. I'm just special, I guess."

It was her turn to look exasperated. "That was not a compliment, Booth."

He grinned. "Really? Because I thought it was."

He was doing it on purpose, she decided. He wanted to drive her to distraction. She sunk back into her seat, folding her arms across her chest. "You are an insufferable man," she told him.

"If I'm so insufferable, then why did you agree to come on vacation with me?" he asked her. "You could've stayed in the lab and played with your old bones."

Why indeed? She'd been asking herself the same question ever since she accepted his invitation. She settled for the simplest answer. "Because I'm tired of everyone saying I don't know how to have fun," she admitted. That was all. It had nothing to do with him. "I have fun. I can be very fun."

He let out what she could only assume was an involuntary snort. "Looking at dead bodies all day is not fun, Bones. Quad biking, white water rafting, now that's fun."

"Those are both highly dangerous activities, Booth," she reminded him. Not only that, but they served no real purpose when there were plenty of vehicles more suited for safe, reliable travel. "Each year, approximately seven hundred people are killed in all-terrain vehicle accidents in the United States alone."

"That's not that many," he argued.

"It is if you're one of the victims," she insisted. "I once identified—"

He cut her off before she could launch into a detailed description of the hundreds of breaks and fractures the man had sustained as a result of being thrown from the bike and crushed between two trucks while travelling along a rural highway. "Okay, new rule – no more talking about death while we're on vacation, comprende?"

"That's Spanish, Booth." Surely he wasn't one of those ignorant people who thought that Jamaica was part of South America? If he was, then she might have to reconsider their entire working relationship.

He glanced over at her with a puzzled expression. "So?"

"Jamaica's local language is Jamaican Patois," she explained.

"Rule number two," he declared loudly, ignoring this remark, "No more talking until we get to the airport."

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><p>"You said I would never have to fly coach again," Brennan reminded Booth as they took their seats at the back of the plane, right near the rest room.<p>

Of course she would get the window, while he was sandwiched between her and some guy who was built like a sumo wrestler. He leaned as close to her as possible without actually climbing into her lap. "If you wanna pay for an upgrade, be my guest," he told her, hoping that she wouldn't, unless she wanted to take him with her, "but you know, unfortunately, we're not all on the _New York Times_ bestseller list."

"You're the one who keeps bringing it up," she complained. "Anyone would think you were jealous of my success."

Here we go, Booth thought. He let out a haughty laugh. "That's ridiculous. I am not jealous of your success, okay? I was just pointing out that I'm not as rich as you."

"It sounds like you're jealous."

"I am not jealous," he insisted through a clenched jaw.

They continued to argue throughout take off, earning them dirty looks from their seatmate, until a flight attendant shushed them. By that time lunch was being served so they busied themselves with their meals instead.

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><p>After a full day of travelling (and bickering) they were both relieved when their cab finally pulled up in front of the hotel at the resort and they could go to their separate rooms.<p>

Booth unpacked the essentials, then finding nothing of interest on TV, went across the hall to see how Brennan was getting on.

"Hey! How come you get a view of the ocean?" he asked, stepping out onto the tiny balcony that was identical to his except for one huge difference. "Mine looks out over the parking lot."

He turned back to her in time to see her shrug with feigned nonchalance. "Just the luck of the draft," she told him smugly as she continued transferring her clothes from her suitcase to the hangers in her closet.

"Draw, Bones. It's 'the luck of the draw'."

"Why don't they say 'draft'? It would make more sense," she insisted.

To her, maybe. "It has to do with card games," he explained, coming back into the room. "You know, you should swap with me." He was pretty sure that she wouldn't, but he had to try.

She glanced up at him with a dubious expression. "Why would I swap rooms with you when mine is better?" she asked logically.

"Because this was supposed to be my vacation," he reminded her. "You wouldn't even be here if I hadn't invited you."

She shook her head stubbornly. "No way. If you don't like your room you can ask them to change it at reception but this one is mine for the next week and a half."

If he did that, they would probably wind up on completely different floors. "Fine, keep your room," he agreed with an exasperated sigh, making himself look as dejected as possible in the hope that she would take pity of him and change her mind. She didn't, forcing him to admit defeat. "How about we get settled in and meet down at the bar for dinner in, let's say, an hour?"

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><p>Booth was the first one to arrive at the outdoor lounge where the bar was located, seating himself at one of the round wooden bistro tables where he could watch the door.<p>

When his partner finally appeared, he saw that she had changed into a pair of sandals and a purple sundress, her long auburn hair, still damp from the shower, hanging loose over her bare shoulders.

"You look nice," he told her as she pulled out the stool next to his and sat down. He couldn't remember ever seeing her look so casual before.

She smiled at the compliment in one of her rare moments of girliness. "Thank you. The dress is Angela's. She doesn't approve of my clothing choices either."

Her tone was so matter of fact, without the slightest hint of offense, that he couldn't help but grin. She was the strangest woman that he'd ever met, but that was what made her so wonderfully unique. "So, Bones, what's your poison?" he asked her.

She stared at him blankly. "I don't know what that means. I don't have any poison."

"It's an expression," he explained. "It means, 'What would you like to drink?'. I'm buying. You know, as a thank you for coming with me." Despite their earlier differences, he really was grateful for her company. The hours that he kept meant that he didn't have many friends aside from the people he worked with, and of those, she was arguably the closest.

"In that case, I'll just have a beer," she said without looking at the menu.

"Look around you," he said, gesturing at the pool, surrounded by palm trees and Polynesian umbrellas, and beyond that, the beach. "We're in Jamaica, baby. At least try something weird and fruity." He slid the cocktail list across the table towards her.

She picked it up, studying it critically. "'Sex on the Beach'? That doesn't sound very comfortable. I imagine that sand would get everywhere."

"You've never tried it?" he asked, surprised. She'd always given him the impression that she was more sexually adventurous than that.

"No," she admitted. "Do you think I should?" She cast a contemplative eye around lounge as though assessing the possibilities.

It was a good thing they hadn't ordered yet or else he probably would have choked. It had never occurred to him that she might be planning to pick someone up on this trip. He figured it would just be the two of them. He felt his chest tighten in a way that he wasn't sure he was comfortable with. It wasn't like he had any reason to be jealous of the clown she hooked up with. He loved Tessa, or at least, he thought he had, until she made it clear that going on a romantic vacation with him was the last thing she wanted to do. And even if he didn't already have a girlfriend, a holiday fling with his partner was sure to complicate things once they got home.

"You know, it's really none of my business what you do on a date," he told her, desperate to get off the subject. He was used to talking about sex with his guy friends, but not only was she a woman, but she was also a very attractive woman that he'd actually considered sleeping with for a brief period in the not too distant past.

"What about you? Were you planning to have sex on the beach with Tessa?" she asked sympathetically.

She always knew how to cut right to the chase. "I don't really feel like talking about Tessa,"he admitted. By taking the trip without her, all he was really doing was prolonging the inevitable. He just couldn't see any future for them anymore – not after listening to what Angela had to say – and he was determined to tell her that the next time he saw her.

"You don't want to talk about work, you don't want to talk about Tessa… What _do_ you want to talk about?" Brennan asked him.

He considered this for a moment before settling on a neutral subject that was sure to keep them occupied for a while. "How about what we're gonna do tomorrow?" he suggested, passing her the stack of brochures he'd collected from the hotel lobby.

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><p><em>For those of you who are worried, I have a plan for dealing with Tessa. Booth is not a cheater and I would never make him one! (Or you know, Brennan a dirty mistress.)<br>_

_Since they're on vacation, I'm pretty flexible, so let me know if you have any ideas for fun activities you would like to see them doing (especially anyone who's actually been to Jamaica) and I'll try my best to work them in. On that note, another quick poll: how AU do people want me to go with this? Friendly flirtation or full blown romance?  
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